


Counting Lives, Counting Time

by mostladylikeladythateverladied



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, discussion of mental illness and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostladylikeladythateverladied/pseuds/mostladylikeladythateverladied
Summary: Based on this prompt: "You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks."





	Counting Lives, Counting Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to tumblr

Mikleo’s hands were shaking as he sterilized his needles for the fourth time in a row. Damn it, he needed to get a hold of himself and banish this morning from his mind. He had appointments today, he couldn’t be shaking like this as he tattooed his customers’ skin. He couldn't afford to fumble. He had to swallow it down.

He tried to focus on the comforting familiarity of the cleaning process, but his mother’s face kept coming back to him. Her words kept swimming in his ears. Damn it,  _damn it all_. He scrubbed at a needle so vigorously he bent it, nearly snapped it clean in half. He tossed the ruined needle in the garbage and resolved to find something else to keep him occupied. Something less mindless than cleaning so his thoughts couldn't come creeping in.

“Hey, Meebo, your regular is here,” Edna informed Mikleo, snapping him out of his reverie. He hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Really? He’s early this time,” Mikleo mumbled. Edna shrugged and turned on her heel to return to the lobby of their tattoo shop.

“Don’t keep him waiting too long. He refuses to get inked by anyone but you.”

Mikleo nodded even though Edna was already gone and there was no one to see it. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. This would keep him focused. He would occupy himself with pretending to be okay.  _Get it together for your customer, Mikleo_.

He followed her out of the back room after carefully placing his needle set back into its case, sans one unfortunate casualty, and tossing out his latex gloves. He entered the lobby and immediately spotted the man he’d been seeing every few weeks for the past five months.

The brunette young man grinned brilliantly when Mikleo entered the lobby from the swinging door that led to the tattooing area. Mikleo felt a little of his stress melt away at the sight.

“Mikleo! Can you get me in today?” Sorey asked brightly. His emerald eyes sparkled in the light and his smile stretched from ear to ear. Mikleo supposed it was only his nature, as Sorey always seemed to be smiling when he was here, but Mikleo hoped Sorey was happy to see him in particular. He couldn't have been happy to see Edna. Nobody was happy to see Edna.

“Sure, Sorey. I don’t have any appointments for an hour, and you’re always fast,” Mikleo replied.

“Yeah, the usual today.”

As it always did, a strange sadness passed over the bright young man’s face when he spoke of the tattoo he wanted. Mikleo felt a deep compulsion to reach out to Sorey, to hold his hand and cheer him up. But that would hardly be professional, so he resisted the desire.

Mikleo gestured to the tattooing area behind him. “Come on back.”

Sorey took the invitation as Edna glowered at them from behind the desk. She probably didn’t actually care much that he was taking someone in without an appointment, but she took every opportunity she could to bother Mikleo.

Mikleo ignored his business partner and walked with Sorey.

“Sorry about this, Mikleo,” Sorey apologized sheepishly. “I didn’t have any time to plan ahead.”

“It’s alright. I’m glad you’re here.” Mikleo immediately internally kicked himself for saying that. It just slipped out! It was true, but it wasn’t something an artist should say to his client. Stupid,  _stupid_  thing to say, even if Mikleo had a shitty morning and Sorey was  _so_  nice to have around…

“Really? I’m glad to be here!” Sorey looked as embarrassed as Mikleo felt.

Mikleo let the conversation drop and hoped he hadn’t unnerved Sorey enough for him to take his business elsewhere. Sorey really was his favorite customer and Mikleo would hate for him to stop showing up just because Mikleo was feeling needy today. The young man was so sincerely sweet and fun to chat with. He asked about Mikleo’s cat and his mother’s health and he remembered Mikleo’s birthday a month ago. He’d brought in a miniature cake with a tiny candle for Mikleo to blow out.

He’d cried that day, sobbed like a baby into Sorey’s arms because his mother  _hadn’t_ remembered his birthday. She’d thought it was ten years ago again and kept asking about Mikleo’s father and wondering when he would be coming home from work.

Mikleo’s father died eight years before, but Muse had forgotten again. Like she forgot so many things these days.

Like this morning. This morning…hurt.

Sorey settled down into the chair at Mikleo’s station and removed his jacket. His short sleeves revealed finely crafted muscles, not overly bulky but definitely the result of some hard work. Mikleo wondered what Sorey did for a living, wondered if it involved heavy lifting. He wanted to ask but he didn’t want to embarrass Sorey further.

Just like he wanted to ask about the tattoos he’d been putting on Sorey’s skin for the past five months.

“Same place as always,” Sorey said. He gestured to the line of tally marks on his upper arm. The newest one was still a bit red from when Mikleo had inked it.

“Are you sure? It might hurt if it’s too close to the last one,” Mikleo fussed. He really didn’t want this sweet, wonderful man hurting more than strictly necessary.

“I’m sure. The marks all need to be together.”

Mikleo nodded. He snapped on a pair of gloves and prepared his needle. He disinfected it for the fifth time today and filled it with pitch black ink.

Sorey didn’t flinch as the needle pierced his skin and spilled ink underneath it. He chatted with Mikleo casually as an eleventh mark was added to the set of ten already present.

The tattoo was done in a few minutes. It was only a short line in black, after all. Mikleo could do that in his sleep. It was as mindless as cleaning was but Sorey's presence kept Mikleo from drifting off to bad places. He wanted to listen to Sorey's voice and that was enough.

Mikleo bandaged the mark and declared the deed done. Sorey smiled at him and Mikleo felt his cheeks warm. He suddenly wanted Sorey to _hold him_. His arms were strong and warm and safe. Mikleo's world became a very scary place this morning and he didn't feel safe anymore.

“Thank you, Mikleo. You’re really the best.” Sorey’s smile sagged a little and Mikleo ached for it to brighten up again. “You said you didn’t have an appointment for an hour?”

“Right.”

“Then could you maybe tell me why you’re so upset? You can talk to me if you need to.”

Mikleo blinked at Sorey. Had he been so obvious, or did Sorey know him so well? He must have faltered in his facade because Sorey couldn't have been paying as much attention to Mikleo as Mikleo had been paying to Sorey.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to bother a customer with my problems.”

Sorey’s expression fell. He looked like Mikleo had just kicked and spat on him.

“Aren’t we friends by now, Mikleo?” Sorey asked. His eyes were wide and the pretty emerald depths begged for a sincere answer.

Mikleo blushed deeper and mumbled, “I’d like to be, but…”

“Then we’re friends!” Sorey’s devastated expression disappeared and was replaced by his familiar goofy grin. Like Mikleo's friendship was all it took to make the sun rise. “So you can tell me what’s wrong. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Mikleo scrunched his eyes shut to hold back the tears welling up in them. He didn’t want to cry over this again, he didn’t want Sorey to think he was pathetic, but he was so needy for affection right now it  _ached_.

“How about I tell you a secret?” Sorey offered, “So it’s not all on you.”

Sorey’s fingers brushed against Mikleo’s arm. They traced the multicolored scales of the koi fish tattooed there. Mikleo nodded, not trusting his voice.

“I started working at a full time care facility six months ago. I’m a nurse,” Sorey explained. “I love my job. I love talking with everyone there. The older residents have so many amazing stories to tell. I sit and talk with them for hours after my shift ends.”

That sounded like something Sorey would do. Mikleo could picture an elderly woman with an aged face and scarred hands telling her life’s tale to a smiling Sorey. He could picture Sorey sitting with his mother, talking…

“Most of the residents are really sick or really old. They die suddenly all the time. These,” Sorey gestured to the tallies on his arms, “are for them. To remember them and their stories.”

Mikleo put those marks on Sorey’s skin, but they took on a new life right before Mikleo’s eyes. The small black dashes were now filled with stories of long lives come to an end. He wanted Sorey to tell those stories to him so they could share the weight of lives lost instead of letting Sorey shoulder it on his own.

Mikleo let his tears fall.

Sorey’s soft touch came to his face. His thumb stroked Mikleo’s cheekbones and wiped away his tears.

“They talk all the time about how proud they are of their sons and daughters, of their grandchildren. But those same children don’t visit much, if at all. Some of them have no one at all to remember them when they’re gone. So I remember. I put their memory on my skin.”

“Maybe…maybe you’ll take care of my mom soon, then,” Mikleo murmured. “Because I’ll have to put her in a home. We already have a live-in nurse. She’s only fifty-three, but…”

Sorey hugged him. His arms were solid and strong around Mikleo. He felt so nice and he smelled like lazy rainy days spent inside cuddling with a loved one. “I’m sorry, you can push me off if you want but you looked so sad…” Sorey’s arms squeezed tighter despite his hesitant words.

Mikleo wrapped his arms around Sorey’s waist to avoid the fresh tattoo. He buried his face into Sorey’s chest and openly sobbed.

“She’s only fifty-three but she forgets things. She forgets where she is and what she’s doing. She forgets what year it is. This morning she…”

Mikleo choked on his words and quivered like a fragile leaf in a hurricane. Sorey’s arms grounded him, kept him together as he tried to shake himself apart.

“She didn’t know who I was!”

The words tore through Mikleo’s throat and through his heart. He didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real, made it inescapable. He didn’t want to face a world where his mother didn’t know her own son. Mikleo wasn't ready for it even after years of watching his mother fade away, after years of knowing what was coming. He was  _so scared_ of this new, inverted world he was living in. Nothing felt stable anymore.

Nothing except Sorey's arms around him.

“I’m sorry, Mikleo. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

A long time later, Mikleo put a mark on Sorey’s skin for his mother. Mikleo cried that day too, and Sorey held his husband until his tears ran dry and kept holding him for a long time after that.


End file.
